


Absolutely Smitten

by masulevin



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Falling In Love, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 19:59:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10726176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masulevin/pseuds/masulevin
Summary: Lace Harding and Moa Cadash fall in love, but neither knows how the other feels.Told first by Moa and then by Lace.





	Absolutely Smitten

**Author's Note:**

> But it's too late  
> I believe in fate!  
> I'm absolutely smitten,  
> I'll never let you go  
> \- “Absolutely Smitten” by Dodie Clark

**MOA**

The problem, she thinks, is that the Inquisition keeps them so busy that their paths rarely cross. This is to be expected, but the understanding makes it no less frustrating when every meeting feels like their first.

In that first meeting, in the Hinterlands, so soon after Moa became the Herald, Harding was nothing but professional while Moa stumbled over her words and blushed and generally acted like a fool until Cassandra lost patience and dragged her away.

Their second meeting is only slightly better. Harding seems a little concerned about Moa but is still the picture of everything Moa’s father wanted  _ her  _ to be: beautiful, poised, deadly, and self-assured. Moa is still an embarrassing mess, stammering and blushing for no apparent reason.

Things go more smoothly in the Fallow Mire when they have a few minutes of privacy. Moa’s companions disappear into their dry tents and Harding teases Moa about being afraid of the undead before wishing her luck and safety with the Avvar. Moa’s so touched that she gives Harding’s arm an affectionate squeeze before remembering herself and running away.

Moa begins planning ahead for their meetings, practicing little flirtations and compliments to give the other woman before Harding moves on.  _ We should get better acquainted _ she says.  _ The desert is immeasurably more precious with you in it,  _ she says, and that one earns a friendly laugh that makes her heart soar for days.

Moa easily discourages Blackwall’s affections, and the Iron Bull stops flirting with her the first time he sees her fawning over Harding in Crestwood. Sera and Moa spend a few wine-soaked nights together before Sera ends it.

“Don’t want to be anybody’s second choice, yeah?” she says, but she doesn’t seem upset. Moa doesn’t find any lizards in her room, at least.

In the Emprise, Moa realizes it’s been almost exactly a year since the Conclave, which means it’s been almost exactly a year since she met Harding. She doesn’t mention it, deciding remembering such a thing would be too weird even for her. When Harding admits her toes are freezing, Moa gives her the pair of socks Dagna enchanted to always stay warm and dry.

“They’re brand new,” Moa assures Harding, just wanting her to be happy, and she can’t quite figure out why Harding turns quite that shade of red or giggles in a way Moa’s never heard before.

When Moa gets mild frostbite on her toes--nothing serious, the healer promises--she just smiles and shrugs and is pleased that Harding’s feet stayed safe instead.

In the Emerald Graves, the two women take a few minutes to share a meal, and Harding asks all about what happened in Halamshiral and blushes prettily when she said she wishes she could have been there to see Moa’s dress. Moa nearly swallows her tongue, but that’s when Harding disappears to continue scouting.

It’s hard not to think about Harding… well, constantly when she does and says things like that.

They have a long conversation in the Frostback Basin when Moa and her companions arrive. They talk about Harding’s family, her parents, the sheep she hated watching. Moa shares about her parents, how her father had taken her away from Dust Town when she was just a toddler, trying to give her a better life.

Harding gives her an amulet that’s supposed to protect her from serious injury. Moa puts it on immediately, making sure that the pendant is safe behind her armor, and she doesn’t notice the wide grin on Harding’s face when she does.

The amulet has a chance to prove itself when the dragon’s tail knocks her off of her feet and down an icy embankment. It shatters and washes her with magic, pushing the shard of rib out of her lung so that the muscle can knit itself back together. 

It  _ saves her life,  _ and Moa wants the chance to thank Harding properly, maybe actually manage to give her the kiss she’s been dreaming of for months, but when she gets back to the camp… Harding is already gone, and Moa finds her back in Skyhold.

“You know that thing we do when we meet out there?” Harding waves her hand vaguely at the keep's outer wall, and Moa glances stupidly at the ivy-covered stones as Harding continues. “The… playful banter? That’s just for fun, right?”

Moa’s world twists and her stomach clenches and embarrassment nearly makes her fall apart right there. She could run. She could laugh and pretend it’s all a lie and go back to her rooms alone, or with Sera even, and cry where Harding will never find out.

Or… “It _ is _ fun,” she says, and honesty makes her dizzy but she spits out, “and I’d like it to continue.”

Moa blinks hard and almost misses the look of awe that passes over Harding’s face before it melts into a wide, toothy smile that lights up her eyes and crinkles her nose. “Really? Wow. I’m… stunned. And flattered! And a little afraid.” Moa’s face falls, but Harding pushes through, “I often spend time at the tavern! Maybe you could join me sometime?”

Moa’s next breath is rasped in through a dry throat and she nearly chokes on it. After all this time wondering and hoping and daydreaming and  _ praying  _ that Harding wasn’t just being polite or kind and actually was interested in her too…

“I’d like that, Harding,” she squeaks, and she’s too happy to be embarrassed when Harding corrects:

“You can call me Lace.”

**LACE**

Nobody told her just how  _ cute _ the Herald is. Although that’s not really the kind of thing that Leliana or the other scouts would pass down to her, she supposes. It doesn’t help that she blushes so prettily and covers the right side of her face with her hand when she smiles, trying to hide the casteless brand on her cheek that’s  _ already  _ half-hidden by cosmetics.

She turns her head away and  _ giggles _ , and Harding stares at the way her long lashes brush across her cheeks before she finishes her report and runs away.

On the Storm Coast, it’s obvious that Moa is still a little uncomfortable with being the Herald, but Harding can’t look at her as anything else, not yet, and she’s polite and professional, and she thinks her parents would be proud of her after all, even if they don’t believe in the Maker or in Andraste themselves. If Moa’s cheeks are pink when they talk, it’s just from the sun she had to ride through before the Storm Coast lived up to its name.

In the Fallow Mire, under the constant threat of the undead, Harding finds a little courage. She teases, perpetual good mood not dampened in the least by the weather, and she replays Moa’s surprised giggle to herself as she stays awake through the night to keep the corpses away from the camp.

Once Moa is named the Inquisitor, she’s even busier. Harding doesn’t fool herself; she knows where she stands in the Inquisition’s chain of command, and she knows she doesn’t have a chance with Moa, not with the amount of time she spends with her inner circle. They’re never even in Skyhold at the same time to just sit and share an ale and talk.

Still. Harding can’t help but look forward to the times they get to see each other. Moa seems to grow more comfortable with each brief meeting, even  _ flirting  _ outrageously with Harding in the blighted Hissing Wastes. It’s ridiculous and Harding laughs loudly, but Moa doesn’t seem to mind. Her eyes, her  _ beautiful _ eyes, glow with mirth, and Harding knows she’s going to take that sight with her to her pyre.

The other scouts start to tease her about her crush on the Inquisitor, but she doesn’t mind. As long as the Inquisitor never finds out about it, it’s okay. It’s harmless, really.

Moa catches Harding freezing and miserable enough to complain outside of Sahrnia, and she actually mentions how cold her toes have been before laughing and trying to turn it into a joke, just a silly joke. “You could increase my hazard pay!” she says, but Moa isn’t convinced.

The Inquisitor returns to Harding just a few minutes later with a package in her hands, her knuckles white from clasping it so hard. She presses it into Harding’s hands, stammering out an explanation of its contents-- _ enchanted socks,  _ she says,  _ never worn, don’t worry!-- _ and disappears to save the town’s residents like she always does.

Harding wears the socks every day until she returns to a place with normal temperatures.

Tales of Moa’s performance at the Winter Palace fly through the scout ranks, and Harding has to fight to keep jealousy from making her angry. She thinks of Moa facing the Orlesian court without her, even though it makes no sense. What could she do to protect the Inquisitor that her advisors and companions couldn’t? She’s worth more out here, in the countryside, sending reports back to Leliana.

When she sees Moa next, in the Graves, she ignores her duties for just a few minutes. She takes Moa her dinner and boldly sits down next to her, and Moa smiles brightly and answers her questions with enthusiasm, but… asks none of her own. She yawns and rubs her eyes, and Harding realizes this is the first time she’s seen Moa’s tattoo without anything covering it. Moa is exhausted, and Harding disappears into the forest, pretending to be following orders.

It’s a few months before they see each other again. Moa joins her in the first camp in the Frostback Basin, face shining with a smile like it always is, and, relaxed for once, the two women actually sit to talk. This time, Moa asks the questions and Harding is happy to tell her all about her experience growing up and about her family. 

She doesn’t miss the wistful glances Moa is giving her, but when the Inquisitor begins explaining about how her mother left her father with a baby in Orzammar’s Dust Town, and how her father had to fight to give her a better life, she decides it’s wistfulness about having such an idyllic childhood in the countryside.

Harding thinks about inviting Moa back home, but… no. That would be ridiculous.

She does take the time to give Moa the amulet she found and watches with pride blooming in her chest as Moa immediately puts it on and tucks it safely under her armor so the chain won’t break. She doesn’t even hesitate. She just accepts the gift with the kind of smile that makes Harding’s heart flutter wildly in her chest.

She makes sure to head back to Skyhold as soon as she can. She isn’t sure she can face the Inquisitor again without making a fool of herself.

They don’t really know each other. They’ve only spoken a handful of times over the last year. The amount of worry and concern and care and  _ longing  _ she feels for Moa is certainly not proportional to how well they know each other or how much time they’ve spent together.

Surely the Inquisitor isn’t being serious. She’ll have someone back home, or back in Skyhold, and her flirtations with Harding will be just that. Flirtations. A diversion. A  _ joke  _ maybe.

She could ask. She  _ should  _ ask. She’ll be traveling less soon, so it’s a good time to really find out what’s happening. Just… just in case.

“You know that thing we do when we meet out there?” Harding waves her hand so Moa will be sure to know what she means even though it’s obvious, and presses through her sudden embarrassment. “The… playful banter? That’s just for fun, right?”

Harding chuckles, though even to her own ears it sounds high-pitched and uncomfortable. Any moment now, Moa will laugh and let her down easy, tell her it was never serious, that she imagined the whole thing. That she should leave Skyhold for daring to be so personal.

Or… “It _ is _ fun,” Moa says, speaking very clearly as though Harding might miss her words if she speaks any faster, “and I’d like it to continue.”

It takes Harding a moment to realize, for Moa’s words to really sink in. “Really? Wow. I’m… stunned. And flattered! And a little afraid.” She’s babbling, saying too much like she did when she was younger, and she forces herself to take a steadying breath before she adds, “I often spend time at the tavern! Maybe you could join me sometime?”

Moa takes a deep breath and then she smiles, and Harding bounces up onto her toes in excitement.

“I’d like that, Harding,” she squeaks, and Harding can’t help but notice her excitement now. How had she missed it?

“You can call me Lace,” she says, and she leans forward to do what she’s wanted to do since the beginning, so long ago in the Hinterlands.

She presses a light, tender kiss to Moa’s tattoo and then takes her hand to lead her away.


End file.
